Home for the Holidays
by coeurgryffondor
Summary: Arthur's family comes over for a holiday meal together. Oh joy. / Greater part of the English-speaking world here plus a few extras. FrUK. Human names listed inside . Headcanons used posted on my writing Tumblr link in profile .


Names used: **America** (_Alfred F. Jones_), **Australia** (_Jett Kirkland_), **Canada** (_Matthew Williams_), **England** (_Arthur Kirkland_), **France** (_Francis Bonnefoy_), **Hong Kong** (_Leon Wong_), **Hutt River** (_George (Georgie) Kirkland_), **Ireland** (_Siobhán (Biddy) Killough_), **Molossia** (_Nicholas (Nick) T. Jones_), **New Zealand** (_Ethan Kirkland_), **Northern Ireland** (_William (Liam) Killough_), **Scotland** (_Seumas Kirkland_), **Sealand** (_Peter Kirkland_), **Wales** (_Owain (Owen) Kirkland_), **Wy** (_Ellen (Ella) Kirkland_)

Author's note: Oh the Kirkland family. My full headcanon for all the characters in this are on my Tumblr (main: **couergryffondor** and writing: **whosaidthat-me**). Essentially go read that, then read this, and it'll all make sense that way. Also there's a smidge of French at one point, nothing complicated.

* * *

**Home for the Holidays**

"Biddy!" Arthur shouts as he takes the stairs down two at a time, Seumas and Liam laughing behind him. "Biddy, save me!"

"What is it?" a voice from the kitchen shouts: salvation as Arthur follows it, two loud and definitely already drunk red-heads following him as he finds a third calmly standing over the stove. "What's the matter dearie?" the woman with long curly hair and freckled pale skin asks, turning as the Englishman ducks behind her.

Finally the two havoc-reekers arrive, bursting through the small arch connecting the dining and living room to the kitchen. "Ah!" the taller one shouts, his grin dangerous as it hangs to one side of his mouth as if an ever-present cigarette was there. Seumas looks wild from the chase now, his deep red hair the color of blood sticking out everywhere. Peaking out from behind him Liam with hair more orange than his sister laughs dangerously.

Arthur steps more fully behind the Irish republic.

"Siobhán Killough," Seumas starts in what Arthur has come to call the man's smooth and suave voice though it is neither smooth nor suave.

"That is my name, Seumas Kirkland," Biddy challenges, spoon in hand.

"Beautiful Siobhán. Lovely Siobhán. Radiant Siobhán."

"Your charms won't work on me boy."

"Sucka," Liam breathes, earning himself a light smack of the spoon to his cheek from his sister. "Jesus woman."

"Come on Biddy," Seumas tries, "you're so busy in here, I'd hate to let anything distract you. Come, let us take Arthur out of your hair–" The raising of one slender eyebrow on the woman's face silences the Scot.

"If you touch one hair on your baby brother," Biddy challenges, "I will bend you over my lap and spank you, and I don't think you'd like it with all our cousins watching. And Francis too," she adds for good measures, making Seumas do a quick calculation of his odds before turning and shoving Liam out the kitchen.

From behind Arthur hugs her, sighing in relief. "Bless you Biddy."

"Less blessing, more chopping," the woman says, pointing to a cutting board with carrots and a knife. At that the doorbell rings, Seumas screaming he's not answering it.

"Do you want to get it and leave me to that–" Arthur asks, pointing to the pot on the stove "–or should I…?"

"Go," Biddy smiles a little warily and he knows it's at the idea of letting him do anything remotely close to cooking. "Oh, and I'm making a cuppa. You want?"

"Yeah, whatever you're having," Arthur calls over his shoulder as he heads for the door.

"Irish breakfast?"

"Whatever!" Upon opening the door Arthur immediately regrets volunteering to greet the guests.

"Hey!" Alfred screams, picking up the English nation and squeezing him tightly. "Where are the others?"

"Alfie let him breathe," Matthew says and when he's released Arthur shakes the Canadian's hand. "I drove," the preemptive answer comes.

"Yeah, he wouldn't let Nick have a go," Alfred says sourly, his micronation looking relieved however at how things had turned out.

"Well two of my brothers are around making mischief," Arthur says, leading the way inside. "Owen will be back soon from the airport; you guys can bring your stuff right up and claim your beds first." As if on cue, once the three North American boys are up the stairs, there's a knock at the door. "It's open," Arthur calls from the hallway, turning to find Ethan and Jett with Ella and Georgie, their micronations, as well.

"That Al's car out front?" Jett demands as he shakes Arthur's hand. "If it is he better not be taking my bed."

"I'm rolling around in it as you speak!" the American's voice from upstairs shouts down.

"We'll take the stuff up," Ethan mutters to his niece. "You go say hi to Biddy for us."

"Ok!" Ella says gladly, moving around Arthur for the kitchen. The English nation follows, wanting his cup of tea.

Between Ella and Arthur they make quick work of the carrots, hiding in the kitchen while the noise level in the other room builds. He doesn't miss Seumas loudly calling Arthur a woman for hiding in the kitchen with the only two females in the family, nor does he miss Jett going right for the kilt joke.

"Madness out there," Ella sighs into her own cup of tea, dumping in spoonfuls of sugar.

"Only going to get madder," the older woman sighs happily. "It is good to have the family all together," she says, her eyes meeting Arthur's.

"I believe what you meant to say was, it's « destructive » to have the family all together." Ella laughs at his joke as the front door is heard to open again.

"Well at least we'll all have time to catch up while we eat," Biddy points out as she washes and dries her hands. "That'll be Owen coming in now."

"Where'd he go?" Ella asks as Biddy stands in the arch.

"Airport," Arthur replies calmly. "Leon and Francis should have landed about the same time and I think Owen knew if he wanted to spend any time with Francis, it'd have to be in the car."

"I like Francis," the Australian micronation says which takes her older companion by surprise. "He's nice to me. He says I'm pretty."

"Don't take this the wrong way Ella," Arthur mutters, "but Francis can't exactly see out his one eye."

"Why not?"

"I shot him in it once." Any further explanation is drowned out as Biddy hugs the French nation, Owen scooting past to greet Ella.

"Leon's sulking in the corner already," the Welshman says before stealing a deep drink of Arthur's tea. "Other than that, is everyone here?"

"Not Peter!" Ella protests.

"His father's bringing him over later," Arthur says to his brother. "I think he's afraid we'll ruin the calm of the Oxenstierna household if Peter spends more time than is necessary with us."

"Can you blame him really?" Owen laughs. "Come on Ella, let's go sit with the others, I want to hear all about your trip here with the boys."

His eyes on his teacup, enough liquid gone that he can see dark specs in the bottom of the cup, Arthur thinks he's alone. He listens to the dull roar of voices in the other room, which is more comforting than he'd ever admit, then he feels smooth hands go across his back and shoulder blades before sneaking down his chest, a body pressing in from behind as lips kiss his head.

"Mon amour. Ça va?"

"Non, je vais très mal aujourd'hui."

"Pourquoi mon Angleterre?" Arthur gives Francis a look, the Frenchman moving to sit in Ella's seat.

"Ah," he sighs. "Seumas, like always."

"Comme toujours," the English nation sighs. Fingers lace together before Francis leans in again, Arthur closing his eyes and turning his face to steal a kiss that's soft and sweet and loving. "He'll never forgive me."

"Only because he doesn't know how to be mad at me," Francis laughs without meaning it. "Come now though, the sooner we venture into that room, the sooner dinner will start."

"So?" Arthur challenges though still standing and following.

"The sooner it starts, the sooner it ends, and the sooner it ends–" Francis turns in the doorway, his eyes twinkling something mischief before winking.

* * *

"Can we at least say grace first?" Biddy begs as the last of her dishes are brought in, everyone settling into their seats.

"Grace!" Seumas, Alfred, Georgie, Liam, Ethan, Owen, Jett, and Nick say at once.

"Ha ha." The Irish republic looks to Francis who, as an adopted member of the family, is her best chance at getting backup.

"I'm afraid this will have to be a Catholic prayer, for I know no other," the man sighs as he stands. A hush falls over the table which strikes Arthur as both eerie and intriguing. "I hope you do not mind if it is in French." Francis sighs, closing his eyes. All around the table heads drop, eyes close, and some of the nations begin taking the hands of those around them. Arthur feels Biddy take his, turning to find Francis reaching out for him as well. "Seigneur," the ancient nation begins, "bénis ce repas et tous ceux qui l'on préparé, donne du pain à ceux qui n'en ont pas. Au nom du Père, du Fils et du Saint Esprit, Amen."

"Amen," the room echoes and at last, dinner begins.

To Arthur's right Seumas sits comfortable at one end of the table; all the way on the other end Alfred lounges, catching up with Ella and Georgie. The three nations laugh as they share jokes, Matthew smiling at them before turning to Jett and Liam to discuss the ever-interesting topic of agriculture. Quickly that will probably turn into a "my vegetables are bigger than yours" contest, Arthur has no doubts.

Leon, who Arthur had been sitting with before, both in an attempt to keep the boy company but also to keep company away himself, is actually talking with Nick if talking was the right word. Complaining about life and the mundane problems of a teenager was probably more like it; Nick wants to be able to drink alcohol, Leon wants to be as messy as he pleases in his own room. Yes, Arthur thinks sarcastically, theirs was a hard and demanding existence.

In contrast Ethan leans over to Owen to join in the conversation of the "good old days" with Seumas, whenever the "good olds days" Arthur can't really recall were. The Scot of course is the hero of all his own stories, Owen is more or less accurate in his victories and failures, and Ethan laughs most of the time. The Englishman doesn't miss the constant Scottish arm reaching out to pull Francis closer beside him, the republic smoothly shifting down to better converse with Biddy. Arthur watches his eldest brother's eyes fall before snapping to him, an anger there; maybe Seumas really had loved Francis.

Awkwardly Arthur sits in the middle of the chaos, the noise only slightly dampened by those around him eating. He pushes some peas around before stabbing at one that rolls away on the table, Francis calmly stopping it before popping it into his mouth.

* * *

Dessert, tea, and coffee they mill about for in the living room, on mismatched couches and chairs and ottomans. Biddy keeps standing to bustle about, Seumas constantly announcing she's to sit down before demanding Liam and Owen get stuff from the kitchen instead.

Arthur gets up when the doorbell rings, climbing over a slightly inebriated Matthew speaking with Francis to answer the front door. "Oh, it's you," Peter says grumpily as soon as the door is open.

"Good to see you too," Arthur replies in a flat voice.

"Pelle," Berwald Oxenstierna behind his son says in a warning tone.

With a roll of the eyes Peter finally manages a, "Hi Arthur," before squeezing by to go see his family.

"Would you like to come in?" Arthur asks of the taller man.

"Ja, sure," the Swede says with that deadpan look of his that's always unsettled the Englishman ever since the once-Viking rowed to his shores as a teenager when he was a child. They never speak of it, but Arthur hasn't forgotten one moment of those days.

"Berwald!" Biddy says happily, coming over to kiss each of his cheeks. The kingdom has to bend down for her, but that doesn't diminish the Irishwoman's smile. "Coffee still, yes?"

"Ja."

"Come this way and show me how you like it." The pair disappear happily into the kitchen. In contrast Arthur, locking the front door, dreads returning to the mess of Kirklands in the living room when the story sharing of how different colonies won their independence from him commences.

The day couldn't end soon enough.

* * *

Food away and the table cleared, everyone starts to disperse for the evening. The micronations quickly lay claim to the front porch, pulling on their coats to fight away the autumn chill so they can swap stories in peace without their larger, controlling nations hearing them. Berwald leaves with his son, Peter skipping saying goodbye to Arthur. The furniture is all pushed to the side in the living room as Alfred, Matthew, Jett, Ethan, Owen, Liam, and Seumas bust out the beer, board games, and Rolling Stones albums. Arthur escapes into the kitchen.

Francis's back is to him when he enters, the man washing dishes in the sink before moving them to the dishwashers. Biddy, finally sitting, looks up from the counter with a cup of tea in her hands, smiling.

"Why didn't you say you needed help washing up?" Arthur asks, kissing his cousin's cheek before joining Francis.

"If I would have asked," Biddy sighs, "only you would have willingly come of our family."

"And my Matthew," Francis adds.

"And your Matthew."

"So you roped the foreigner into it?" Arthur asks, taking it upon himself to rearrange how Francis had begun filling the dishwasher.

"The cook should never have to wash up," Francis says haughtily. "I volunteered as a gentleman."

"Gentleman my arse."

"Boys, please," Biddy interrupts. "There's enough bickering already. Besides, I thought you two were getting along again." Code for dating in Biddy's world.

"We're on a break," Arthur says sourly, looking to Francis.

"What? It was your idea."

"You didn't have to agree."

"You would have broken up with me if I didn't."

"Because you're a shite boyfriend."

"I thought we stopped the bickering," Biddy moans.

"Those two?" a demeaning voice interrupts and Arthur could have cursed Seumas. He sometimes wonders if they've ever gotten along. "Jesus, Biddy, for a lass as smart as you, you sure know nothing of these two. Come on Frang, leave the ladies to the dishes."

Francis smiles softly to Biddy before in a voice that was both light and threatening murmurs, "I rather spend time with my boyfriend, thanks."

"Well whatever to you too." The Scot leaves in a huff.

* * *

Leon disappears first, to go text someone or other. Actually he'd probably disappeared hours ago and no one had noticed.

Georgie and Ella call it quits soon after they notice the missing Hong Kong, saying that if they were going hiking tomorrow they wanted to be as well rested as possible. Following them up the stairs Owen, who was planning the adventure, starts telling Jett and Ethan his ideas. He had maps to show them, because he was Owen and that was what Owen did.

"And where are you going?" Biddy demands as Seumas and Liam start zipping their jackets up, Seumas pulling the hood up over his head, Liam letting Alfred wrap his scarf around his neck as many times as possible.

"Pub," the Scot says, leaning over to kiss his cousin's cheek. "Don't worry about us, I'm just watching Liam."

"My brother gets hurt I'll have your blood."

"Believe me, Bid, I know." Seumas winks at Francis, messes up Matthew's hair, slaps Alfred on the back, then finally heads out the door.

"We'll be good Biddy, don't worry," Liam laughs, kissing his sister's cheek before following his adoptive brother out the door.

"Yeah, good in their jail cell for the night," Alfred jokes and Matthew nods.

"I'm going to go up to find the others," Nick interrupts. "Like hell they're actually asleep."

"Good idea," a Welsh voice says coming down the stairs. "Night Nick!"

"Night!" and the micronation scurries up.

"Where'd Seumas and Liam just go?" Owen asks.

"Where do you think?" Biddy rolls her eyes before moving to collect empty beer bottles on the floor.

"Well we'll get out of your hair," Matthew says quietly. "Night everyone."

"Night y'all!" Alfred calls, heading upstairs. Matthew, after kissing Francis's cheeks, follows after his brother.

"Since the alcoholics are gone," Owen laughs, turning to Francis, "let's have a drink by the fireplace."

"Let's."

Biddy heads out front to make sure the front porch is clean, and Arthur realizes that for the first time in hours no one is looking at him. He takes his opportunity to slip out the backdoor in the kitchen, pulling a cigarette hidden in his pants pocket out. He slides down the wooden pole to sit on the top step down, the lone porch light above him buzzing as it illuminates the backyard.

"What'cha thinking about?" a sweet voice asks, Biddy settling in beside him and laying her head on his shoulder.

"Do you ever think what would have been different, if we were humans?"

There's a quiet pause before Biddy sits up, meeting Arthur's gaze. "Put that out," she whispers and he does as he's told; Biddy didn't like it when they smoked. "I do, sometimes," the Irishwoman finally admits, "but then I wonder if we'd all still have found each other. The thought that we might not is too heartbreaking." He knows she means the former colonies.

"They'd have other families," Arthur muses, "the way Peter does now. They'd still be fed and loved."

"Yes but it wouldn't be my food or my love, and so it wouldn't be good enough for me." Biddy caresses one of Arthur's cheeks, her hand warm where his skin is cool from the night's air. "I worry if we were human, Francis may have ended up with Seumas."

"I have no doubt whatsoever," the Englishman says with an air of authority, "that Seumas would have found some way to drive Francis away."

"Then would he have given you a chance?"

The question hangs in the air, heavy, pregnant. Seumas would never get over losing Francis. Francis would never get over having to surrender Matthew to Arthur, and Arthur would never get over having to let Alfred go. (Matthew he hadn't minded letting go free really.) And then there was Jett and Ethan, and Owen was always all smiles but Arthur knew his middle brother really did feel heartbreak that he didn't have the strength to share with them all. Liam was a product of all the bad habits the three British brothers and Biddy had ever had, and Biddy herself–

"You're feeling guilty again," the woman cuts in. "I hate when you do that."

"How could you ever forgive me?" Arthur moans, looking at his feet. "After all I did to you."

A hand lays gently atop his. "No, Arthur, you did not do those things to me. England did those things to Ireland, yes, but you did not do those things to me." Looking up into green eyes so like his own, like Owen's and Liam's and even Seumas's, Arthur sees nothing but love reflected back. "I raised you and I love you."

"Thanks Siobhán," he sighs before getting a light smack.

"Don't call me that, it sounds weird."

"I'm old enough to pronounce it now."

"Don't care."

"Seumas calls you it."

"Everyone else calls me Biddy."

"Biddy isn't even short for Siobhán."

"You didn't know that then."

Down the street a cat meows loudly at something and maybe, just maybe, Arthur thinks today wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been.


End file.
